


Home-coming

by AnnaofAza



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Coming Untouched, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-04
Updated: 2016-01-04
Packaged: 2018-05-11 14:49:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5630470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnaofAza/pseuds/AnnaofAza
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Thank fuck, but couldn’t you have come back sooner? My cock is fucking chafed.”</p><p>“Couldn’t survive without me?” Harry teases, with a quick peck to Eggsy’s nose. “It’s too bad; I was planning on celebrating my glorious return—”</p><p>Eggsy draws back his hand and lightly hits Harry’s arm with a soft whap. “You don’t have to touch my cock to bring me off, guv.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Home-coming

**Author's Note:**

> The pun in the title is unintended, I swear.
> 
> (Originally posted on [my tumblr.)](http://annaofaza.tumblr.com/post/136570994308/hartwin-coming-untouched)

“I’m home,” Harry calls, opening the door.

Eggsy hears him, and almost kills himself clambering down the stairs to throw his arms around the man he missed. It had been one of Harry’s longer missions since Kentucky—nearly two months undercover in a drug ring—and they could barely manage calls over the glasses. Harry was rarely alone, and Eggsy threw himself into mission after mission, with Roxy making him take occasional breaks to visit his family and mates. Jamal had teased him about being lovesick, and Eggsy couldn’t help but agree: the thought of Harry several countries away kept him up so late that he’d begun to get slightly nauseated and anxious.

But Harry’s back, and for a long time, they simply stand right there in the entryway and hug.

“Oh, Eggsy, it’s wonderful to see you after so long.” Harry draws him in closer. Eggsy can still smell gunpowder on his suit, and closes his eyes, thankful that Harry managed to come back to him in one piece.

“I almost replaced you with Hugh Grant,” Eggsy teases, well aware of Harry’s long-standing jealous streak that resulted in some very energetic nights and threats to confiscate his collection of DVDs.

Harry rolls his eyes. “Can Hugh Grant do this?” he asks, before pressing his lips against Eggsy’s. Eggsy closes his eyes and lets his own lips and hands do the talking for him, re-familiarizing himself with Harry’s touch and scent and taste.

Their kiss turns more heated, more energetic, hands roving and hips rocking, before they have to break away for air. Eggsy’s pleased to see Harry breathing a bit heavily, but he’s not so pulled together himself. His own chest heaves, just a bit, and his feet feel as if they’ve stuck to the floor

Eggsy then groans. “Thank _fuck_ , but couldn’t you have come back sooner? My cock is fucking chafed.”

“Couldn’t survive without me?” Harry teases, with a quick peck to Eggsy’s nose. “It’s too bad; I was planning on celebrating my glorious return—”

Eggsy draws back his hand and lightly hits Harry’s arm with a soft _whap_. “You don’t have to touch my cock to bring me off, guv.”

Harry’s eyebrows raise. “Oh, _do_ tell.” Then, coaxingly, he murmurs, “Tell me what you were thinking about when I was gone,” while taking Eggsy’s hand and leading him to their room.

Eggsy holds off on answering when Harry lets go and begins to strip out of his suit. Harry once told him that one thing better than wearing a suit was taking it off at the end of the day, and Eggsy watches Harry unravel his tie and slide it through the collar before dropping it carelessly to the floor. When Eggsy moved in, he thought Harry would be a neat freak, but Harry’s as messy as he is, if not worse.

One by one, Harry allows each piece of his suit to fall, kicking them into a pile, and Eggsy quickly follows his lead. He’s only wearing a t-shirt and sweats, so it’s easy as anything to pull them off and toss them near Harry’s. Soon, they’re both naked and pulling each other to bed.

Harry can be a gentleman in bed, and Eggsy can be sweeter than pie, but long stretches of separation cause them to abandon those motions for now. They kiss and kiss and kiss, fingers sliding and tugging at hair, sighs and moans loud in the room.

“Tell me,” Harry suddenly repeats, tracing an idle finger up Eggsy’s bare chest. “Tell me what you missed about me.”

Eggsy watches as the finger begins to trace a nipple, and tries not to breathe when Harry’s fingernail just grazes the edge of the peaked bud. “I was thinking of you,” he says, voice restrained. “I was thinking of you touching me.”

Of course, Harry stops his motion, looking faux-confused. “Where?” he asks innocently. “Here?” He reaches out to playfully tug, once, Eggsy’s nipple. “Or here?” Harry presses a teasing kiss to Eggsy’s stomach. “Or…?” With a decisive grip, Eggsy finds himself flipped over onto his stomach, then a finger just slipping around the edges of his hole.

Grunting impatiently, Eggsy snatches both of Harry’s wrists and lays the left palm on the left side of his arse, then the right on the right. “Touch me, Harry, you fucking bastard.”

He can almost feel Harry’s smirk when those large hands spread him open and warm breath teases his inner thighs. Harry slowly squeezes both cheeks of his arse, before Eggsy feels cool air, followed by a warm tongue.

Eggsy’s already hard when Harry _licks._

It’s then followed by another sort of kiss, except sloppy and obscene and definitely less tender. Eggsy closes his fingers around the sides of the headboard, arching upwards, as Harry mouths and laves and sighs. His cock is hardening faster, precome already slicking the sheets, and Eggsy idly thinks _tomorrow will be laundry day_ , before Harry distracts him by dragging his thumbs, caught on the rim of Eggsy’s arse. His nails are neatly trimmed, the fingertips calloused.

Harry licks at him, tongue going deeper, alternating between laziness and quickness. Eggsy tries not to squirm, not to lose the heat or pressure, nails digging into the wood of the headboard. He moans, low and keening, and is pleased when Harry fails to also stifle his own noises.

Sweat and spit cools when Harry draws back for a fraction of a minute before he continues, teeth first nipping at flushed flesh.

“Is this what you thought about?”

“Yes, Harry,” Eggsy gasps, ready to flip him over and return the favor, but Harry has other plans.

He lowers his mouth, then inserts his tongue, and Eggsy swears. His palms and spine are slippery, and his forehead is beginning to bead with sweat. “Oh, Harry, yes Harry—”

“I missed you, Eggsy,” Harry gasps between breaths. “God, I _missed_ you, I missed you so much, missed you like—”

“Keep _going_ , Harry, God, keep going—” Eggsy folds his knees and lifts his arse up in the air, not caring about what he looks like. Harry’s tongue is relentless, stroke after stroke, with steady hands on his arse. Eggsy’s cock swells underneath his belly as he rocks back and forth against Harry’s tongue and lips.

Harry’s fingers knead his arse. “Do you want me to—”

“Yes, Harry, fuck me, or I’ll kill you.”

There’s a wry retort, but when Eggsy feels a slick fingertip moving in slow circles around his entrance, he stops caring. All he wants is Harry, Harry to touch him, to fill him, to love him. He wants to feel Harry after seemingly endless days and nights. He doesn’t want his imagination or his own fingers. He needs Harry, here and solid and alive—

“I’ve missed you, too, Harry—I’ve missed your smile and your kisses and your cock—oh, _God_ , you better do it, Harry—you _better_ —”

“Not without prep,” Harry says, and Eggsy realizes he’s already knuckle-deep in his arse, two fingers. And with a deft touch, Harry finds his prostrate and prods.

Eggsy moans, again, and clenches around  Harry’s long fingers, chest tight and heart pounding. He can’t keep his mouth shut, lips gaping, as Harry slowly thrusts and stretches and teases. Harry’s patient and considerate, but Eggsy doesn’t want that, not now. He wants Harry inside of him.

As if Harry read his mind, the fingers withdraw with an almost comically loud squelch, and Eggsy bites his lip impatiently as Harry reaches for the lube in the nightstand. His heart is pounding with anticipation, and when Harry’s chest brushes against his back, Eggsy can feel the frantic beat.

And finally, finally, Harry slides in, slowly and gently. Their hips rock, faster and faster—they both howl and gasp and groan—Harry’s hard, and his thick cock catches on Eggsy’s surely-swollen rim—they move and move and move—grind and thrust—sweat and skin slide and slip—

“Eggsy,” Harry gasps, “Eggsy—”

“Harry, come _on_ , come inside me—I want to— _oh_ —”

 _“Eggsy,”_ Harry repeats, desperate and breathy. “Eggsy, I—”

Eggsy wishes he could see Harry’s pupils dilate and mouth spread open, as they both jerk and shout with each frantic thrust—then—then—then—

It’s heaven and crashing through the stars and landing on Earth—he’s shuddering and gasping and—

Spies are violent, and their orgasms are no exception. Eggsy’s sure he hears Harry swear on five different languages, and he’s positive he shouted so loudly that they’re probably going to get a noise complaint.

For a long while, they simply lay there, Harry pressed against Eggsy’s back and arse, before rolling them both on their sides and pulling out. Eggsy reluctantly groans, but is comforted by Harry pulling him in for another embrace. They’re sticky and sweaty, and by all means, disgusting, but Eggsy doesn’t mind one bit.

“I missed you,” Harry whispers, and Eggsy sighs, “I missed you too,” before leaning over to kiss him.


End file.
